


When You Were Mine

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: JJBek Week 2017 [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Primary ship is JJBek, eventual poly - Freeform, that otapliroy fic where someone other than yuri is in the middle of the undercut sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: At the end of the song, there’s a split second where the string quartet flips their sheet music or whatever, and Jean Jackass is tapping him on the shoulder and he asks, “can I cut in?” and Otabek’s entire face lights the fuck up.Yuri is disgusted by the two of them moving across the dance floor. Otabek leads, even though JJ is broader and taller. He can see their mouths moving, and then Otabek is laughing. Fuck. Does Otabek…Like him?Written for JJBek week 2k17





	1. Chapter 1

Otabek is so cool. He tells Yuri’s Angels to fuck off without so much as saying ‘fuck off’ out loud. He simply tells Yuri to get on his bike, and just like that they get the picture. Otabek is so cool. He does a set at a night club, and then leaves even though girls and guys crowd around him at the door. He dismisses them like they’re nothing at all, because he wants to see _him._ Otabek is so damn cool. He gives Yuri his pullover, and then pulls him up by the collar of his own shirt to shove his tongue down his throat. When Yuri ruts up against him with his half hard cock, Otabek pushes him away gently, and tells him, “we have a lot of work to do.”

Otabek is so fucking cool. He tears off Yuri’s glove with his mouth, and Yuri swear to god pops a boner right then and there on the ice in his skin tight pants. Later, in the hotel room, Otabek has Yuri get on all fours, and he licks his ass until he feels sloppy and wet and hot with shame. He pushes his cock into him real slow at first, and then as soon as Yuri can push back against him, he slams in _hard._ They’re reduced to nothing but raw animalistic grunts and moans that don’t even sound like them.

Otabek is so cool, that it takes him off guard when he hands him a cup of bad hotel coffee while he’s still naked in bed and asks, “will you be my boyfriend?” Otabek is cool. He doesn’t come across as the kind of person that wants to be tied down with a label, and expectations.

Yuri responds coolly, because that’s what he is. Cool, just like Otabek, “Nah,” and he takes a long sip of his coffee. It’s too hot, and he tries to hide how it burns his tongue. Because he’s cool. “I’m busy, you’re busy. Long distance could get weird. Let’s just keep things cool.”

Otabek nods. He seems surprised at just how cool. How grown up and mature that Yuri can be. “Alright.”

For a minute, he thinks that maybe Otabek is upset with him. But then he tells Yuri to get dressed, and they go for one last ride before they have to catch their respective planes home. Otabek tears through the city in the early morning light terrorizing the flocks of pigeons that gather street side along with old ladies on their way to church. It’s so awesome.

* * *

 

JJ is a fucking asshole who gets attention for shit that people have been doing for forever. Victor’s been planning his own skate music since his debut, so who cares if JJ sings some shitty lyrics over a song and then skates to it? Mila works at a shitty summer camp for disabled kids because of her sister, and no one gives a fuck about it. So why do people give a shit if JJ chops up some carrots at a soup kitchen or whatever? Yuri’s got this cool little cooking blog that he updates once every blue moon, but it’s a big fucking deal whenever JJ goes on some cooking competition show for charity.

Basically, people act like Jean-Jackass hung the moon and the stars. So even though Baldass and Fatass kissed on national television, and he’s been tweeting some _quality_ “gay culture” memes, it’s a media shit show when JJ and Isabella publicly and amicably split because big fucking surprise, he’s gay. Of course with PyenongChang coming up in just a few months’ time, it’s billed as this big inspirational story. Jean’s face is plastered all over social media with rainbow flags and shit, and it makes him gag.

The only thing that gets him through it is that Otabek still deals with his constant bitching. Encourages it even. Otabek sends him phots of several products, snack foods and wine spritzers plastered with rainbows and JJ’s stupid face. He simply captions the images, “Seems excessive,” and Yuri is eager to agree.

He and Otabek don’t talk every day, but they talk a lot. They send videos of their routines, and they have one hell of a snap streak going.

When they see each other in Salt Lake City for Skate America again in the fall, they pick up where they left off. Otabek rents a bike, and then Yuri blows him on the side of the road of some scenic route. It’s really fuckin picturesque, or whatever.

* * *

PyeongChang is pretty great. Otabek’s room is just down the hallway from his. It’s super stressful, sure. They spend every single day training, talking to the press, and having limited opportunities to eat all the delicious Korean food that he knows lurks just beyond Olympic Village, but there are plenty of upsides. He lives for the brief bits of time where he and Otabek _should_ be asleep, but stay up watching movies or passing his Nintendo back and forth. 

They laugh about the dumbest shit. There’s some Biathlon dude on this floor too who walked into the common area on their first day and started accusing everyone of eating his crab chips. He was red in the face, and couldn’t speak half the languages in the room, so he just kept yelling “Snek!” over and over again. Which is an inherently funny word.

So for a solid week, all it takes is a call of “SNEK!” across the rink for one or both of them to burst out laughing.

Otabek doesn’t push him down and fuck him until he’s sore. Yuri assumes that’s because they’ve got to compete soon. Otabek doesn’t kiss him much either, but they’re both anxious right? So, it’s okay.

Its okay until it isn’t.

Yuri comes over to Otabek’s room after he peels off his workout clothes after practice and throws himself into the shower. Individual events are done, but there is still the pressure of the team event looming, and he’s determined to get gold in both events or kill himself trying.

So Yuri knocks, and Otabek says in a hushed tone, “come in,” and for a brief second he thinks that maybe tonight is the night that Otabek is gonna tear off his clothes and fuck him real good.

All of that gets shot to shit when he sees JJ sitting on Otabek’s narrow bed. They’re on opposite ends as if they’re purposefully trying to be as far away from one another as possible. Otabek’s hair doesn’t look perfect. Weird. “Why the fuck are you here asshole?”

JJ replies earnestly with a big stupid grin across his face, “Otbek invited me over for movie night. He said you usually watch action movies, so I picked John Woo,” and Yuri turns to see that the laptop, propped on the rarely used desk chairs which occupy each dorm room, is already playing a movie.

So Otabek didn’t even wait for him. Great.

JJ scoots over so that he’s sitting _between_ them. Which is stupid because he doesn’t want to sit next to JJ, and he should be sitting next to Otabek anyway. He doesn’t say anything in the moment, because he’s tired.

JJ is annoying, but Otabek’s commentary is fun, and Yuri joins in and makes sure to purposefully talk over JJ.

* * *

It hits Yuri like a ton of bricks at one of the many after parties they go to after the closing ceremonies. His mind adds everything up all at once, and then he realizes that he’s fucking stupid. He thinks about asking Otabek to dance all night, but doesn’t. If Otabek isn’t cool with it, then he doesn’t want to be over eager.

Otabek walks up to him while he’s loosening his tie and is nursing a glass of red wine. It’s the dry kind and tastes absolutely awful. He’d kill for something sweet right now, like those little cans of fizzy alcohol Yuuri brings into the onsen. They taste like candy.

“Careful Plisetsky,” Otabek warns. It’s a known fact that Yuri cannot hold his liquor, and also does not want to be associated with Yuuri Katsuki more than he has to be.

Yuri waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever, I’ll just blend in with all the other sloppy assholes.”

Otabek looks really good in in his tux; he’s nothing but black accented with sharp creases. He knows for a fact that the silver cuff links that he wears have “OA” engraved on each. His are borrowed from Victor and as a result say, “VNK”. H left the pair that Yakov gave him in St. Petersburg on accident.

Otabek’s hands are soft on his body. They move together naturally underneath the muted lighting of the dance floor even when their shoes stick to the floor tacky with spilled alcohol.

Too bad it’s nothing fucking special.

At the end of the song, there’s a split second where the string quartet flips their sheet music or whatever, and Jean Jackass is tapping him on the shoulder and he asks, “can I cut in?” and Otabek’s entire face lights the fuck up.

Yuri is disgusted by the two of them moving across the dance floor. Otabek leads, even though JJ is broader and taller. He can see their mouths moving, and then Otabek is laughing. Fuck. Does Otabek…Like him?

Yuri’s stomach drops, but he reaches for more wine anyway.

* * *

“You should try some scotch,” JJ suggests, and then disappears for a moment to go to the bar.

Yuri’s face is flush with alcohol and he feels like he’s burning alive with rage. The words just spill out while he stares at the red and gold fleur-de-les pattern of the carpet. “So, you’re fucking that asshole?” But he has the sense to censor, “but not me.”

Otabek opens his mouth, pauses for a bit, and then finally speaks. “It’s kind of like our arrangement.”

Yuri doesn’t have time to spit anything back. Jean comes back balancing three doubles in his hands. It’s disgusting, but he drinks it down anyway because he’s not going to let this asshole Jean best him in medaling, or drinking, or fucking.

All too soon the three of them are tearing out of the party, and Yuri’s shouting, “If I don’t get some Unmook, I’m going to die!” and then he giggles and playfully kicks JJ and Otabek in the gut. Pussies complain that it hurts and don’t do it again. Whatever.

Yuri looks at the city through his clouded cold breath. Maybe it’s the booze. Maybe it’s the high of a gold medal, but it isn’t an awful time.

* * *

 

Yuri wakes up with a semi and the feeling of a warm body against his. He can remember that even though JJ was there the whole fucking time, it wasn’t awful. He can remember falling into bed giggling like a little bitch. He opens his eyes to see Otabek sleeping softly. He loves seeing him like that. The living embodiment of tension relaxes, and it’s just so good. His mouth is slightly open, and his hair is mussed. His mouth looks so kissable.

Except.

There’s an arm draped around his middle. It’s intimate, and it’s familiar, and Yuri props his arm up to see JJ all but latched on to Otabek’s ear in his sleep. Otabek shifts, and Jean buries his face into the crook of Otabek’s neck. Otabek makes a soft little noise that Yuri didn’t know he was capable of.

It takes every ounce of energy that Yuri has to not slam the door on his way out of the room.

* * *

Otabek updates his Instagram two days after they part ways in Milan after Worlds. He _never_ updates his public Instagram. It’s a photo of him underneath neon lights at a DJ booth. Jean’s nearby with a microphone in hand. They’re looking at each other. Yuri isn’t exactly sure if he himself has ever looked at someone that way, and he’s not sure if Otabek’s ever looked at him that way.  Except, he’s sure as shit seen it before. It’s the kind of look that has Victor and Yuuri slapped all over it. Liking. Loving. Whatever. It’s captioned simply, “collab” and then that douche JJ is tagged.

He scrolls further down to see a photo of JJ, clearly taken by someone else. He’s standing poolside, and the caption reads, “Summer Vacation with @otabek-altin.”

Yuri chucks his phone across the room.

* * *

It gets _worse._  

Yuri’s scrolling through his Instagram mindlessly one night in Hasetsu just after midnight. Everyone is in bed, and he has the onsen all to himself just like he likes it. He can stew himself until his fingers are pruney, don’t work against his phone screen, and he stinks of sulfur. He can blast his music through his Bluetooth speaker, and stare at the stars. He can drink ice cold melon flavored Ramune until he’s sick to his stomach, or almost chokes on a marble, whichever comes first. He doesn’t have to think about skating, and he doesn’t have to think about grandpa, and he doesn’t have to think about how gross Victor and Yuuri are. He thinks about that a lot these days. They’re somehow grosser now that they’re married.

The first mistake was following JJ, but JJ followed him first. Yuri’s scrolling, and scrolling and his fingers freeze on a picture of Otabek. Yuri knows from sleeping with Otabek and spending the night with Otabek that the only thing that is better than the image of sleeping Otabek, relaxed and just begging to be woken up with a blow job, is the image of Otabek who has just woken up.

That’s what Jean has posted. Otabek’s eyes are barely open. He’s clearly in bed, and Yuri knows that Otabek always sleeps on his stomach. His head is tucked up underneath a pillow, and his arm obscures part of his face. Except, Yuri doesn’t need to see all of his face to know that he’s smiling. He can tell by the way there’s a wrinkled line on his cheek. He can tell by the way that his eyes shine.

If the intimate moment captured and then displayed for thousands to see wasn’t bad enough, there was the fact that Otabek is the kind of person who wants to be asked before they’re tagged. So Jean presumably asked, and Otabek presumably said, “okay.”

Of course the image was captioned in small black sans serif font, “ _After dominating at #Pyeongchang2018 and #Worlds my #boyfriend @otabek-altin and I are tired. Rest #JJstyle.”_

Yuri slams his phone so hard into the stone flooring of the onsen that he cracks his screen into shards. The next day he has to take two trains and a bus to get to Hasetsu’s only phone repair shop.

* * *

Yuri had this shirt….This shirt that was somehow too big for him and too small for him all at once. It was oversized around his torso, but still showed his belly button. He loved that shirt more than anything. He’d worn it across the globe, on three fucking continents, and at least _five_ different countries.

It’s Otabek’s shirt of course. He gave it to him at the Grand Prix final, and told it to give it back to him in Pyeongchang. It’s the kind of well-loved and well-worn black t-shirt that’s faded more or less to grey. It’s the kind of shirt that has a few loose stitches on the hem or the sleeve. The shirt used to have a band logo. Some underground group that Yuri’s never heard of. The shirt used to smell like Otabek’s soap: earthy & musky.

Yuri debates whether or not he should dramatically send it back, keep it, or burn it. The whole time he mentally kicks himself for not taking Otabek up on his offer months ago. He had his fucking chance, but he was too stupid to see it. Otabek wasn’t just cool. He was genuine. So, when he asked, he meant it.

During his internal debate on what to do with the shirt, he puts it on because it’s so comfortable. He lays down for a bit so he can play his favorite game on his phone. After a few rounds, his eyelids grow heavy, and he finds himself staring at the oscillating ceiling fan, and then the inside of his eyelids.

When he wakes up again, the room is far too hot in the afternoon Kyushu sun. His skin is slick damp with sweat and the shirt clings to him, in all kinds of unpleasant places. Yuri jams his hands down his pants and hates himself for it. 

* * *

Yuri’s first reaction is to just disappear and pretend like nothing happened between him and Otabek. No friendship, no last minute choreography, no fucking, no 200 day snap streak. He’s got a great opportunity for it. It’s June, and he’s hanging out in Japan for the foreseeable future. He can spend his days stuffing his face with barbecue eel, praying for grandpa’s health at the shrine, and talking over Mari’s shows until she kicks him out of the dining room. He can pretend to not want to hang out with Victor and Yuuri. Then, when they do stupid shit like rent paddle boats at the park, or take the train to Fukuoka to go shopping, he’ll hang out anyway. When no one else is around he can let Hiroko baby him: fix his hair, and straighten the collars on his shirts, and feed him extra desert when no one is looking.

It works out fine until Otabek starts calling one afternoon and doesn’t relent. No matter how many times he hits the angry red ‘cancel’ button, Otabek just keeps on calling. His first thought is to simply turn off his phone. Except, he knows Otabek’s personality. He knows that Otabek is persistent to the point of being relentless. It’s really fucking hot, and it’s really fucking infuriating.

So Yuri finally answers. “What the fuck do you want?” just to get it over with.

“You’re avoiding me Yura,” Otabek says flatly into the phone. “I don’t like it, when people say that they’re my friend, and then they avoid me.”

“Yeah well,” it’s easy for Yuri to throw his voice into a deep booming yell that rattles the thin walls of the onsen. It’s far more difficult for Yuri to hide the tremble in his voice that betrays the valence of emotion. He’s angry, not sad. “You’re my best friend and you’re fucking around with someone I can’t stand.”

The line goes silent for a moment, and in that time Yuri can feel the corners of Otabek’s mouth curl into a smirk even though he cannot see him. “Yuri, is this about you and I?”

“Fucking no?” Yuri spits back into the receiver. “It’s about how I can’t stand Jean-Jackass, and he can’t stand me.”

“He stands you,” Otabek says. Yuri can hear the slight lilt to his voice. “He thinks you’re funny.”

“I don’t care,” Yuri yells into the phone. He can _feel_ the pressure and the sting of teardrops forming in his eyes. God, he’s stupid. Determined to not let Otabek get the last word in, his finger hovers shakily over the red, ‘end’ button on his phone. What is there left to say? Except, he can’t end the call because he feels paralyzed.

“I want to still be friends, Yura. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Really? Because it certainly feels like Otabek got rid of him that easily. “You have to understand, I didn’t want a hook up or a one night stand. I wanted to be in love.”

Which, he realizes _now_.

Yuri hits the ‘end call’ button, but throws his phone anyway. He can’t decide if he’s angry or if he’s upset. He can’t decide if he wants to kick something, or if he wants to cry. So, he settles for emptying the refrigerator of leftovers, and then staring at the ceiling of his room until his eyes cross.

He had a lot of nerve just calling him like that.

Yuri deletes Instagram, snapchat, and twitter from his phone, and stays ‘unplugged’ for five full days. It’s the longest he’s gone without social media since he was a kid, and that includes the time that he tweeted a hilarious photo of Yakov emerging from the toilet with his pants down around his ankles yelling at someone during training camp. Yakov took all of his devices as punishment, no matter how many times he said someone else stole his phone.

No social media? Living in a town with one train route? Hanging out on an island nation, and making rice at the ass crack of dawn with Mari? He’s basically off the grid.

So, he’s legitimately surprised when he comes across their collaboration. Fucking Mila sends  him the YouTube link. It’s got an official music video and everything. Although Otabek appears on screen only for a few seconds within the video, it’s still him. On screen, the beat drops and picks up tempo. The lyrics stop abruptly, and Otabek jumps off of his bike and presses JJ into a brick wall.

Yuri tells himself that it’s so fucking cheesy, and absolutely not cool. He’s being very public about his shitty relationship. It’s so damn weird. Otabek can be so private and so elusive: private Instagram, private Twitter. Then, simultaneously he can be so aggressively in your face. Whether it’s a very public ‘kidnapping’ in Barcelona, or appearing in a shitty music video where he looks so good it ought to be illegal, Otabek is seen when he wants to be seen.

* * *

Yuri doesn’t really talk to Otabek much after he hangs up on him. The snap streak is gone, and the ones they do exchange seem superficial. It fucking sucks, and at this point he doesn’t care about Jean-Jackass. He doesn’t care that they fucked around a few times. Sure, he’d sell his soul to go back in time and say, “yes,” when Otabek asked him to be his boyfriend. In the present, all he wants is his friend back. He has other people, but being around Otabek had always been easy.

He stares at his phone with the messenger app open, and Otabek’s contact page pulled up, but he never actually says anything to him.

Then, by some strange, cruel, and amazing twist of fate, he and Otabek are assigned Skate Canada at the start of the season. Of course, JJ puts it all over social media that he’s going to support his boyfriend.

Yuri arrives at his hotel in Vancouver with ‘a plan’…Well the plan is to go to the coffee shop near the lobby, get a latte, and then make a proper ‘plan’. Some kind of five point, I’m-sorry-still-hate-him-but-I-miss-you plan. Not solid, but it’s better than breaking his phone and staring at his text messages.  

Except, the plan to plan unravels relatively quickly. When he rounds the corner to go into the café, he’s in the middle of a particularly good text message tirade to Victor and not really paying attention to what’s going on. He’s pulled from his thoughts immediately by a deep booming voice which calls to him, “Princess Yuri!” and lo and behold it’s Otabek and fucking JJ sitting together on one side of a booth.

Yuri turns on one heel and bolts it so fast he almost plows over a little girl in the lobby. This causes him to trip and face plant someone’s really expensive looking luggage. 

* * *

Yuri always has a hard time sleeping the night before a competition. In the past few events, he’s always had the option of harassing Otabek. This is usually followed up by being lulled to sleep by the feeling of his strong powerful arms wrapped around him. Now, that isn’t an option.

Yuri settles for the next best option. After spending the entire summer boiling his brains every night in the onsen no matter how hot it was outside, he’s used to the ritualized activity of soaking until his brain is foggy. He _needs_ the hot tub.

Yuri knows that the pool was supposed to close at eleven, but who cares? What are they gonna do? Tell him to leave? He’s shaking.

Yuri jams his keycard into the door, and then tries his hardest to close the door as quietly as possible. He pulls it shut and presses on the latch so that it doesn’t make noise. The sharp staccato sound of the door latching is timed perfectly with a low moan that Yuri would recognize anywhere. It haunts him in his dreams.

Yuri spins around on his heel. The entire pool area is dark, and light streams in only through the long narrow windows that go from floor to ceiling and the lamps within the pool. The two sources of lighting mingle together in strange mixture of moonlight and fluorescent lights and make everything look like he’s watching from a grainy UHF signal.

In the sickly green light he can see a man’s form, ass muscles clenching beneath the water. Unfortunately, he’d recognize that tramp stamp anywhere. It makes the blood in his veins turn to ice. There’s one little detail about the scene before him that pisses him off more than the rest. Makes his stomach sour.  It’s not the soft little moans, or all the sweet nothings made in French that he cannot understand. It’s the dark muscular arm, partially obscured by JJ’s body, but certainly draped along his chest. Otabek cups the side of his face intimately. It’s how Otabek pulls him in for a kiss, because he can hear the sticky sound of mouths smacking together.

Yuri stomps out of the pool and makes sure to make a big annoying ruckus. He slams the door open and stomps out. Luckily, he’s alone on the elevator, and has his hands jammed down his pants before the doors fully close. He leans into the “close door” button with one hand, and with the other he jerks himself.

What fucking luck. How many times has he crept down to the onsen at some ungodly hour? Not once has he ever caught Baldass and Fatass fucking. Ever.

Walking back to his room feels like a bad fever dream, because everything about it was so fucking hot. Not just the idea of Otabek getting fucked, or the fantasy of him fucking Otabek. No, his dick takes it one step further. He’s really into the idea of Otabek getting fucked by JJ.

Yuri flops onto the bed with a frustrated groan torn straight from his gut. He grips his cock by the base and jerks himself as hard as he can because he wants this to be over. He wants to come so he can stop thinking about how big JJ is, and how stocky Otabek is, and how they probably look together when they’re wrestling around in bed.

Then his fucking cock starved mind betrays him again, because he starts thinking about what it would be like if JJ fucked him. Would he be a gentleman and finger him until he came first before fucking him, or would he pin Yuri down, slap his ass, and call him Princess?

And why are both of those options really fucking hot?

Yuri can feel it coming, the pressure and the heat build and build until he’s raising his hips off the bed and gritting his teeth. He twists his hand down over the head, and goes back up to the tip as soon as he reaches the base, just like he likes it. He should have come by now.

Yuri’s spent the better part of his teenage years coming quickly and trying his hardest not to get caught after all.

What if…Fuck no.

Yuri grits his teeth and chases the thought from his mind.

But really, what if. What if they were both on Otabek? What if Jean was fucking him and-

Yuri can feel his heart pounding in his chest, it feels as if he’s just run suicides for mouthing off. His cock aches and he just wants to come, but the last thing he wants to do is come to the idea of _sharing_ Otabek. Otabek is his, or at least _should_ be his.

Yuri can’t fight it anymore. His mind’s eye unapologetically conjures the image of JJ fucking Otabek from behind. Yuri on his knees, holding Otabek’s hips and keeping him from fucking his mouth too hard. Yuri loves sucking cock. He loves sucking Otabek’s cock. The image of Otabek stretched wide, and unable to control himself, moaning his name, and moaning Jean’s name and both of them competing to see who can fuck Otabek better, make him come harder.

He’s coming into his hand in no time. Then, he’s wiping himself up with a discarded shirt. He grabs his phone and scrolls mindlessly, but his cock is still aching hard, and has no sign of softening any time soon. Yuri grabs his dick by the base, rolls over onto his stomach, and screams into his pillow.

It’s not fucking fair.

* * *

Yuri is in a shitty mood to begin with when he’s up for his free. He’s skating fifth out of sixth, and it just _shouldn’t_ be like that. To make matters worse, Yuri feels a firm hand clap onto his back as he’s watching Otabek perform on one of the many screens in the locker area.  As the jolt ripples through his body he already knows who it is, and it makes him see red. “Princess,” the syllables are distorted by the sound of his music. Yuri can feel himself arching his foot into an artful kick before he can see the loser’s face.

Instead of getting a toe pick to the face like he deserves, Jean has the fucking nerve to interrupt the kick by body checking him. Yuri’s body bangs against the locker, but it doesn’t hurt _physically._ Once again Jean’s tore out his pride and stomped all over it.

He’s sees red, and his next immediate thought is fuck the competition. Beat Jean’s ass, because nobody should get away with doing that to him. Except, in the harsh yellow light of the locker room, time slows down. Jean looks angry, and Yuri has never seen him wear that expression before.  It’s frightening, not so much that he expects JJ to kick his ass. More so, he doesn’t expect him to be capable of these kinds of emotions.  He’d expect this kind of behavior from Otabek…but not…

When he speaks, Yuri listens.

“You’re really upsetting Otabek. I wish you’d stop.”

He’s upsetting Otabek? Otabek is upsetting him. He’s the one who walked in on his best friend getting nailed by his ~~rival~~ , the worst fucking human in the history of existence.

“Just talk to him,” Jean says before turning on his heel and walking away as if they hadn’t spoken at all.  

Otabek gives him a thumbs up from the kiss and cry, and it’s too  much too soon. Otabek looks at him like he hasn’t been an ass to him for the past four months, like they could just pick back up where they left off if Yuri wasn’t such a jackass.

Something like regret hits him when Otabek smiles at him like that.  He likens it to blunt force of one’s body when you come out of a jump the wrong way and land on the ice, hard and unforgiving. He has this sudden rush of raw and unbridled  that threatens to crush him alive and ruin his free skate.

Except Yuri whips around off the counter and turns his quad into a combo with a triple attached because that’s just how fucking much he _feels_ right now and it’s got to be dispersed.  

It earns him a personal best for free skate score.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Yuri crams another enormous bite of the cake into his mouth halving the slice. “It’s really fucking good.” Otabek better speak now, because he met up only under the internally proposed condition that he wasn’t going to cry like a little bitch about how heartbroken he was. Stress eating is the only solution to _avoid_ doing this.

Otabek of course, is straight to the point, and therefore fucks up his plan entirely. He’s wearing that tense and emotionally constipated look that he’s always got when he’s forced to talk to the press.  Otabek unclenches his jaw and shoots him point blank in the heart with feelings, “do you love me Yuri?”

Yuri shoves the rest of the cake into his mouth in one go and desperately tries to flag down the waitress to get another, because he’s not having a meltdown in a café. No fucking way. He’s about to yell for her attention when Otabek speaks again, “I need to know Yuri.”

“You need to know?” Yuri interjects. “You’re the one that left me high and dry. Unless you’re gonna tell me you’re breaking up with him after this.”

“Yuri,” Otabek’s expression softens. Everything about his expression looks exposed, and hurt, as if Yuri’s just kicked him, and here’s the thing. Yuri feels like a lot of people deserve to be kicked, but never Otabek. Even when he’s off making lovey-dovey eyes at Jean-Jackass. “Jean’s not going anywhere.” He purses his lips together for a moment, and Yuri doesn’t say anything. He can’t because his throat feels tight. So Otabek keeps talking. “You never gave me a chance.”

“What do you want me to say?” He can feel the tears coming. Whatever. He’ll say his peace, and then he’ll leave before he can cause a scene. “I love you. But it doesn’t matter now because you’re fucking JJ.”

Otabek’s mouth quirks into a smile. It’s not the smirk that he gives on ice, nor is it the half smile that he gives whenever he thinks he’s being particularly clever. This one is curled up on both ends, wide, and genuine. Saved for Yuri in the past, and JJ in the present. “I’m not just fucking him Yura.”

God it pisses him off when he still uses that name, but talks about _him._ Ah fuck, no matter how much he blinks he can feel the tears slide down his eyes.

“I love him,” Otabek says. He turns towards Yuri slowly. “I love you too.”

“So fucking what?” and it takes Yuri every ounce of energy and self-control that he has, and probably ever will have to not lash out, or flip the table, or do something equally stupid. He gets up from the table, and the chair scrapes against the floor, which alone draws more attention to them than needed. “Do you like want to date both of us?”

Otabek doesn’t say anything right away. He simply holds his gaze steady and firm. It’s as good as any verbalized form of, ‘yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For best results, listen to your fave version of "When You Were Mine." I prefer the original by Prince, but the Pillows version is good too.

Otabek has rented a Ducati for this event. It’s small, and it’s sporty, and it’s really not meant for two people. Whenever they go around turns they dip so low on the bike, Yuri’s certain that they’ll touch pavement.

Otabek takes them out by the bay. The cool autumn air bites at his nose and at the tips of his ears until they go numb. With the cold air blasting through his brain and erasing every shred of a thought that he might have, he almost forgets that things are weird.

“Seems kind of selfish,” Yuri says when they finally park.

Otabek opens his mouth as if to give a rehearsed answer, as if he’s considered that Yuri would say this. He falters on the syllables, and has to start over once more. “I met you when I was thirteen. I fell in love with you then.”

“Fucking stop.”

Otabek interrupts him with the signature dismissive wave of the hand. It’s funny to watch, and infuriating to experience.

“I met Jean when I was fourteen. When I moved to Canada, I was fifteen. I guess I fell in love with him at that time. It happened slowly, gradually, unlike with you.” Otabek a long pained breath, as if he’s just run a great distance, as if simply discussing these thing which are so deep and so personal is exhausting. “I guess, for both of you, it’s been a long time.”

When he says it that way, it makes Yuri seem like the selfish asshole. It’s like a kick to the face, and a punch to the gut all at once. The wind is knocked out of him, and all that’s left is Otabek and his love.

“I don’t expect you to be open to the idea,” Otabek speaks plainly. “And I understand that, but think about it. We all had fun together in Pyeongchang.”

Yuri wants to scream “yes,” at him. Yuri wants to yell, “no fucking way,” at him all at once. Of course there’s the one annoying little detail that’s being overlooked here. Because although it’s just him and Otabek at the bay…“Yeah, not that I give a fuck, but,” Yuri throws steps up onto the bottom part of the railing, and then drapes his arms over the top of the cool metal rail. The scent of salt tickles his nose. The water looks so blue. He could be anywhere right now: Hasetsu, St. Petersburg, Vancouver, but the fact that he’s here with Otabek makes it both strange and special. “What _does_ that asshole think of all this?”

“He likes you,” Otabek says simply. “He thinks you’re funny. Cute too.”

They don’t talk about it anymore after that. They skip rocks into the bay, and then when that gets boring they throw rocks at metal signs that say ‘no swimming,’ or ‘no fishing,’ and for the first time since the closing ceremony, he doesn’t feel like a stranger in his own skin around his best friend.

Fuck. He feels like he has a best friend again.

* * *

He doesn’t cross paths with them until the Grand Prix Final, and he’s kind of, sort of, definitely okay with that. He goes to France, Otabek to Rostelecom, and JJ to NHK. It gives him time to think so hard that clenches his jaw so tight that his head hurts. It gives him time to not think about it at all. Otabek who? JJ who?

Yuri has an answer by the time he boards the plane to Turin for the GPF. On the flight, he changes his mind, and changes it back again no less than six times.

But by the time he lands, he’s sure. Pretty sure. Mostly sure. All it could take is one dumb thing out of JJ’s mouth to change it back again, but he’s willing to try. Otabek is so worth it. He _gets_ Yuri in a way that no one else does.

Not to mention, his intrusive thoughts about JJ haven’t gone anywhere since he saw the two of them together at Skate Canada. It only gets worse when photos of JJ’s charity calendar for the Toronto Humane Society leak. There’s this one of him, shirtless, and holding two kittens…God it’s the fucking worst.

After he’s made up his mind, the rest should be easy right?

Wrong.

JJ invites him to dinner the first night before the short program. He’s cranky, and he’s hungry, and he’s jetlagged all to hell, but he accepts, only after confirmation that Jean’s going to pay for everything. So Yuri decides he’s going to order three desserts and hoard them until after he’s done with the free skate.   

Otabek sits next to him, and it’s almost surprising how he and Otabek can slide into a normal conversation right there in front of JJ. It feels good to have the heavy, all consuming weight of Otabek’s gaze upon him again. It feels good to watch the way that his mouth tugs at the corners into something like a smile. The soft touch of their knees underneath the table set him aflame.

Otabek even ribs JJ a bit, much nicer than he would, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t fucking hilarious.

Everything should be fine, or mostly fine, except he has to sit across from JJ, which means he has to look at him. When he tunes out the constant stream of garbage that spews from his mouth, he’s really handsome. Yuri wants to comb his fingers through the longer parts of his hair, and drown in those deep blue grey eyes.

Yuri can feel the blood rush to his face, and after they’ve picked over the appetizers, he stands up from the table. He mumbles, “fuck you, you handsome asshole,” and leaves the table without a word.

Naturally, Otabek tries again. Tensions _always_ run high the night before the free skate, and tonight is no exception. Its well after midnight, and Yuri can’t sleep. He’s done all the breathing exercises that Yuri’s taught him. He’s followed Victor’s suggestion and had a small bottle of beer, but nothing works.

At 1:03 AM, there’s a knock on the door. He opens it, and he’s welcomed by the sight of Otabek. Eyebrow cocked, crooked smile on, he jams his body into the doorframe making it look much bigger than it actually is. “Can’t sleep?”

Yuri shakes his head, “no.”

“Come-on,” he insists. “We’re gonna go blow off some steam.”

Parked out front is this cherry red convertible. The paint job is so bright that it burns his eyes. Some kind of shitty pop song blasts through the speakers. Of course JJ’s in the driver’s seat. Otabek opens the door for him like he expects Yuri to get up front. “It’s fucking December,” he barks. He can see his air come out in clouded puffs of air. Of course the top is down.

“It’s good for you Princess. Clears the mind,” JJ offers.

Yuri gets in, but it doesn’t take long for him to decide that he likes the bike better. He likes the raw power of the engine beneath him, and the feeling of Otabek against him. It’s shitty that he forgets to tell JJ this when they park the car back in the garage at the hotel after riding for hours and hours. Instead, his mouth is twisted up into this freakish toothy grin, and he cannot stop laughing. Even when JJ is sitting right there next to him.

* * *

At the gala, Yuri’s in the middle of a vehement argument with Katsudon on the nuances of miso broth versus tonkatsu broth in ramen. He can feel his face getting redder, and his voice getting louder, because who the actual fuck can you be born and raised in Kyushu and choose miso?

He’s interrupted from a very passionate monologue, “how can you give miso the time of day? You eat it every day for breakfast asshole,” with a firm tap on the shoulder.

It’s Otabek. He doesn’t speak, but he cocks his head ever slightly towards the door. Of course, JJ’s standing next to the goddamn door with Otabek’s blazer draped over his shoulder.

Yuri swallows thickly. It’s like the night they choreographed Welcome to the Madness. It’s like the night they all went out in Pyeongchang. It’s like something completely new, and completely different. It makes his face flush hot, and his heart pound in his chest, but Otabek has always been good at that.

In the elevator, JJ breaks the crushing silence, “C’mon kiss him Beka, the two of you have been killing me the entire competition.”

“I’m not doing anything until Yuri says it’s alright.”

Fuck. That’s right. He’s never gotten around to actually saying anything. He wants to say something like, “yeah, it’s cool,” as he puffs out his chest and runs his fingers through his hair like it’s no big deal. Or, he wants to back Otabek up into the wall of the elevator, plant a big wet kiss on him, and ask JJ in a cocky voice, “you like that?”

Instead, it comes out as an exhausted sigh, “fucking please.”

 Otabek’s kisses are somehow better than he remembered. He’s soft at first, barely touching his lips, and tracing the line of his mouth where his lips part. Then, he’s there all at once, pressing in and demanding more, more, more. Yuri’s almost certain that he makes the _most_ undignified noise when Otabek kisses him, but it could’ve very well been JJ. He can _feel_ the ember hot scrutiny of eyes upon him, and he ashamedly likes it _a lot._

The elevator pings, and he’s being _hauled_ out, still joined at the lips to Otabek. JJ is tugging on Otabek’s jacket. Otabek is tugging at him by the lapels. Somehow they make it into the room, and they all fall into bed together. Yuri on one end, Otabek in the middle, and JJ on the other side.

“We won’t do anything tonight,” Otabek husks into his ear between kisses.

Despite the fact that he’s half hard and pressed against Otabek’s leg, the words are so comforting to Yuri. He knows how to fuck Otabek, and him and JJ certainly know how to fuck each other, but he’s not yet sure how it should all work, the three of them. He feels like he’s dangerously close to throwing himself at JJ, and telling him to go fuck himself all in the same breath.

“Unless you want to,” JJ adds with a grin.

Yuri scoffs, “You might be a slut and fuck on the first night, but _I-hmph!”_

Otabek shuts him up with a kiss. He’s so ready for it, and it’s so welcome.

He’s not exactly sure how long he and Otabek kiss, but it is long enough for his lips to get puffy and sore to the touch. It is long enough that a damp spot forms on the front of his dress slacks, and why is he still wearing these? It’s long enough for JJ to stop sucking on Otabek’s earlobe and whine, “Otabek,” and demand that he too get a kiss.

So then Otabek and JJ kiss for what feels like forever. Yuri watches the way that they push against one another, and rut against one another as if everything is a competition. Yuri runs his hands down Otabek’s side, but doesn’t kiss him anywhere. He just listens to the soft, but unbridled moans that Otabek makes when they kiss. He watches the way that JJ’s eyes flutter open whenever Otabek makes those sounds. He looks so enamored, so enraptured with JJ. They look so good together.

Then, JJ’s breaking the kiss, propping himself up on one arm, and locking eyes with him. Then, he’s looking down at Otabek, asking some sort of silent question.

Otabek’s eyes provide no answer to either of them. A thick tangible tension hangs between the two of them. Time stands still, as JJ’s eyes slowly drift upward once more. Yuri raises his gaze to meet him. “Can I Princess?” And it’s very clear that he’s asking for a kiss.

Although there’s very much a part of him that screams, “too much too soon,” he does his best to swallow the knot that builds in his throat. He leans over Otabek; Jean follows. Yuri shoots Otabek one more furtive glance. His eyes are dark and clouded with desire, as if this is somehow better than having two people bicker about who gets to kiss him next.

Yuri closes his eyes, holds his breath, and kisses JJ.

* * *

“Come see me at 4C.”

But Yuri knows what the request really is. “Come see us.” Which, Yuri isn’t gonna lie sounds damn good. After the GPF gala, Yuri woke up with his arm draped across Otabek’s chest. He made out with them both until his lips were chapped, and he was almost late for his flight back home.

At first, he didn’t mind the distance afterward, welcomed it even. It was a lot to process. New group chat, new snap streak, was JJ his boyfriend now? Or did Otabek just have two boyfriends? Did he want JJ to be his boyfriend?

“I don’t know,” Yuri loves fucking with Otabek. Never misses a chance to do it. “I’m kind of busy.”

“It’s in Sapporo Yuri.” And he can’t hide behind any excuses anymore. He’s been hiding in Hasetsu since the European Championship, and won’t return to St. Petersburg until a few weeks before worlds.

“Will you buy me horsehair crab?”

“If you’re good.”

“Will you buy me Jingisu Jan?”

“If you play nice.”

Yuri gets neither horsehair crab or Jingisu Jan the night he arrives in Sapporo. He arrives by Shinkansen, green car thank you very much, and both Otabek and JJ meet him at the station to help him with his bags. He _did_ just finish dominating at European nationals like…Last week, and so he thinks the additional assistance is warranted.

He jumps into Otabek’s arms and plants a big sloppy kiss on his face. JJ hugs him, and yeah, there’s something about the way that he hugs. It’s warm, and it’s welcoming, and he wants more even if it is just another platonic hug at the train station.

Otabek mauls him as soon as the elevator doors close, and although he’s not allowed many spare glances on the ride up, he swears to god that JJ is looking at them both with predatory eyes. When they get inside the hotel room, Otabek picks Yuri up and tosses them on the bed.

JJ asks, “how are we doing this princess?” Then, he adds, just to piss him off, “your pick. He already fucked me in the shower while we waited for you. He was going crazy without you.” He keeps talking, because it’s JJ and he _has to._ “It can even be just you and him nice and sweet, as long as I get to watch.”

Yuri swallows thickly. He likes the sound of that. He likes it a lot. Except…No, if he’s going to do this, if they’re going to do this, he’s got to go all in. He has to start out with the hardest fucking thing and then work back from there, or else he won’t do it at all. Otabek is too addictive to lose again. He doesn’t want to choke on his syllables and have to speak twice. “I-want-to-watch-you-fuck-him.” And he hopes they understand that what he _actually_ means is that he wants to watch Otabek take it just like when he saw them in the pool.

JJ does, and Yuri sits on the corner of the king sized bed and sees the world. He and Otabek kiss like it’s an Olympic sport and they’re in the final rounds. They kiss with their whole bodies: mouth against mouth, tongue against tongue, chest against chest. Their limbs get tangled up in each other, and every other thing that comes after is like an interruption. Getting naked, and getting a condom, and getting lube, are all secondary to the way that Otabek and JJ fuck each other’s mouths with their tongues. They interrupt each other, and push each other over and under one another, and they’re not even touching dicks yet, and Yuri is so incredibly hard.

Then, when Otabek is completely naked and spread out on the bed, JJ pushes his legs open, and swats him playfully on the thigh. Yuri’s eyes go wide as dinner plates as he watches Otabek’s cock twitch. He commands Otabek, in a voice that’s both playful and firm, “go kiss your kitten.”

So Otabek does. Otabek’s fingers thread into his hair, and he kisses him with just as much hunger and just as much passion as he kisses JJ. His eyes flutter open when they part, and his voice cracks when he says, “Yura,” then they’re kissing again. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

How can Yuri even respond to that? He can’t, so he just kisses Otabek again.

JJ works him open quickly, and deftly. They’re the motions of someone who has done this before and knows exactly what to do in order to elicit a specific response.

Yuri’s got one hand gripped around the base of his cock when JJ’s confident face is cracked, just barely. He chews on his lower lip, and asks Yuri, “wanna feel? He’s really tight.”  

“I don’t need you facilitating!” Yuri barks. “Didn’t you say it was my pick?”

Yet and still, Yuri does something that he’s never done before. He sinks a finger into Otabek’s ass. Of course, Otabek moans around his single finger like it’s the hottest fucking thing he’s ever done. In that moment, he almost wants to push JJ away and demand to fuck Otabek.

It’s not like that’s what they both probably expect.

Yuri sinks another finger inside. He scissors his fingers, watching Otabek’s rim catch and drag against the pressure.

They both expect it, and so he _can’t_ do it, as much as it pains him. He’s got to show this fucker JJ that he can play nice, but only for Beka’s sake. Yuri moves up Otabek’s body, but keeps his fingers buried inside. It would be so easy to slip his fingers out, and his cock in. Instead, he kisses Otabek, just as hot and as hungry as they kiss each other.

“Put on a good show for me, Beka,” Yuri says as he pumps his own cock.

“Of course,” and Otabek steals one last kiss before JJ pats him on the hip.

 Otabek turns over. JJ’s grabs him up by the hips, pulls forward, and sinks his cock inside.

Yuri isn’t sure where to look: Otabek’s hole, JJ’s cock, Otabek’s face twisted in pleasure and pain, or the flexed muscles that go on before him for miles and miles.

It’s way better than anything he saw when they were together in the pool. Although they’re fucking each other, it’s all for him. JJ moves Otabek around so that Yuri can see all of him, like he’s some kind of porno director. JJ spreads his cheeks wide so he can watch him pound in. JJ makes him sit up, and he tweaks Otabek’s nipples as he thrusts. The loud unbridled moans that he makes are unlike anything Yuri’s ever heard before: loud, guttural, unfettered.

It gets better still. Otabek goes back and forth between them kissing them both. When Otabek and Yuri get a good rhythm going, kissing and biting like there’s nothing else in the world, JJ’s pulling Otabek away. Otabek greedily latches on, until Yuri pulls him back. In the fractions of seconds that Otabek goes without kissing _anyone_ he whimpers softly, like it’s the worst thing in the world.

 Otabek only dares to break a kiss between himself and JJ to call out to him, “Yura,” and it’s the best fucking sound he’s ever heard. Except, he’s right fucking there kissing him and touching Otabek’s cock. So much for just watching.

“Do it Princess. You know you want to.” And then JJ is pushing Otabek back down on all fours. Then, Yuri’s body acts upon it’s own free will. He grabs his cock by the base, and preses his cock to Otabek’s mouth.

And then his body is acting upon his own free will. Otabek takes _all_ of it immediately. Yuri can’t help but remember that the last time Otabek sucked him off, he definitely could _not_ do all of that.

Maybe JJ is good for something after all.

 “He’s really good isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Yuri agrees.

“Like he was made to take our cocks,” JJ continues.

“I don’t need you to fucking narrate!”

Otabek pulls off of his cock, and that alone is enough to make him shut up. “Don’t-“ Otabek hovers over his cock for a moment, and turns back to JJ to shoot him a look. _The look._ “Start.” Otabek has zero tolerance for bullshit, and if they can’t play nice, he isn’t playing at all.

Then, Otabek is taking him back into his mouth, and Yuri can’t help himself. He threads his hands into Otabe’s hair, and tugs it hard. Yet, Otabek doesn’t relent, he keeps going, keeps sucking and chases his orgasm just as hard as Yuri does. It’s one of his favorite things about him.

Yuri kisses him before he gets the chance to swallow, and he can taste himself on Otabek’s mouth. He did that. Otabek is his.

“Beka,” JJ husks.

The room is filled with the sound of JJ fucking into Otabek. Yuri does his best to reach for Otabek’s cock without breaking the kiss. The room is filled with nothing but loud, unrestrained grunting noises from both of them. It’s enough to make him feel hard again.

Otabek comes into Yuri’s hand. JJ comes into Otabek’s ass. In the scant blissed out seconds after they all come, Yuri lays Otabek down against the sheets. JJ goes for a towel. Otabek looks relaxed, from his mussed hair to the tips of his toes, which playfully pinch at Yuri’s skin. He’s never seen Otabek look this happy before. Even when they’re on the podium together.

* * *

In the space between 4C and Worlds, JJ sends him pictures of motorcycles with side cars. Yuri responds with the same canned insults so many times that they sound dull and uninspired. It’s like yelling at Yakov. “Yeah, if you’re the asshole in the sidecar.”

JJ goes through Yuri’s cooking blog and likes every post he’s made since 2016 before Yuri can block him. Then, he sends him recipes that he thinks he’ll like. Most of them are awful North American style garbage. A can of this, a can of that, store bought dough, and cheese. JJ sends him playlists that he makes specifically for him. It’s usually lots of black metal, with the occasional Goth song. Hidden in the middle is JJ’s latest garbage. Of course, it’s always titled something completely innocuous and labeled as a band he likes.

At some point, he stops deleting them outright. A little later, he doesn’t skip them right away. Later in the season still, he seeks them out and listens to them during warmup.

“Can you keep a secret?” Yuri jams out in clunky autocorrect laden letters on his phone.

“Maybe,” Otabek responds.

“Never fucking mind.” On one hand, what’s the point of all this if he can’t dish to Otabek about JJ? On the other hand, he’d flip shit if JJ talked about him, which, he probably does.

“It’s okay to like him,” Otabek says after a long time of watching the ‘typing’ bubbles crawl across the screen. Then, because Otabek fucking gets him. Just really fucking _gets_ him, he double texts. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’d never tell.”

It makes Yuri’s frown tug into an awkward looking smile.  He still tosses his phone to the other side of his bed for good measure.

* * *

Despite a personal best on the free skate earlier in the season from Yuri during the Grand Prix qualifying event, and a personal best for Jean on the short program at 4C, Otabek lives up to his title of _dark horse._ Yuri can’t even feel the sharp pangs of defeat when he’s up on the podium next to him. Watching Otabek skate always tears away something within him and leaves him feeling raw and exposed. This time was no different. Otabek deserves it.

Sometimes, what happens in the rink mirrors what happens in real life…That’s what Victor told him once, and of course he told him to go fuck himself. Except…Standing next to Otabek on the podium while JJ is on the opposite side? Well, whether he wants to or not, he has to be apt to agree.

“What does the World Champion want?” JJ asks him over dinner. “Nothing’s too good for you babe. We’ll go wherever, we’ll do whatever.”

“Couldn’t even get him his steak the way he wanted it,” Yuri scoffs in between wolfish bites of risotto. Otabek ordered rare, and what he’s got is medium at the very best. Although Otabek said it was fine, it pissed Yuri off like no other. If he so much as cut into his steak and saw anything less than blood red, he was sending it back.

“Kitten, that is _not_ my fault. If I recall _you_ suggested this place.” JJ responds. “Do you not like it Beka? We can send it back.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll ask for you. Like I said, nothing is too good for you. I’ll do anything-“

“Cut the crap Leroy, you wouldn’t know a decent meal if it jumped down your throat.”

“Yura,” Otabek’s voice is firm.

“Otabek, look at that steak he’s got over there. It’s well fucking done. We literally cannot trust anything he says.”

“Enough,” Otabek’s voice makes Yuri shake in his boots. Whenever Otabek spoke in that tone, it meant he’d decided something. It meant that whatever he’d decided was going to drive Yuri fucking crazy in the best and worst kind of way. “You want to know what I want?” Otabek’s gaze drifts over to JJ.

JJ’s gaze locks onto his own across the table. They’re both so fucked, and in an instant they know it.

“I want to be selfish tonight,” Otabek says simply. “I’m going to make you get along.”

* * *

He’s kissed JJ a few times since they made their arrangement “official” at the GPF. Yuri isn’t really a fan. He always grabs Yuri up like he’s a ragdoll, or some small thing to be protected. He holds him tight in those big firm arms, and kisses him nice and slow. He kisses him like he could love him too. He’s not a fan, and he knows that he’s not a fan of the way that JJ kisses _because_ they’ve done it so much.

Yet, Otabek seems insistent on torturing them both. He demands that they kiss until they’re both hard and they’re both straining in their pants. Only after Otabek rubs both of their bulges through their pants does he allow them to move forward.

“Take his clothes off Jean.” JJ is far more careful than he should be. He undoes each button, and pulls his shirt away slowly. He takes his jeans off, and asks Yuri softly to raise hips so that he can peel them away. “Now you do the same,” Otabek comments. Yuri is far more rough than he needs to be. He pops buttons, and yanks down waistbands.

He’s too rough. JJ, too gentle. Yuri can see the fire in Otabek’s eyes that suggests he’s somewhere in the middle. He’s hard and he’s desperately trying to hold onto whatever shred of control that he’s got by any means necessary. They’re both fucking with each other, and Otabek is fucking with him.

“Suck him Yura,” Otabek’s request is simple, and it’s the _opposite_ of selfish.

JJ’s cock feels thick between his lips. Otabek told him to suck, but he doesn’t say how. Where he’d do everything in his power to gag on Otabek’s cock, he treats JJ differently. He wets the tip, and then blows on it softly. He rests it in the side of his cheek, but doesn’t move. He simply feels JJ pulse in his mouth.

“Fuck Princess,” JJ hisses.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Otabek asks.

“I don’t know.”

 Yuri can hear that annoying tone in JJ’s voice that everyone else finds playful and endearing, but he finds fucking annoying. “He’s teasing me babe.”

“Yeah,” and then he can hear the sticky sounds of the two of them kissing. Yuri lets go of JJ’s cock, and he can feel an insult rise in the back of his throat.

As if on cue, Otabek breaks the kiss and orders, “Yuri, don’t insult him.” Otabek has that dangerous look in his eye that tells him that he _has_ to obey.

Otabek adds, while he touches JJ’s jaw. “You…be grateful. For everything that he does for you.”

And the comment makes Yuri’s knees weak. It makes him preen like a fucking school girl, and not a slut with a cock in his mouth.

It goes on like this for awhile. Otabek and JJ kiss while Yuri sucks. With all the moans and the grunts between them, he’d feel left out. Except, these are always accompanied by fingers threaded through his hair, or soft touches against his jaw. Then, Otabek will sit up on the bed and tug on his cock until there are tears in his eyes, and it’s so hard to keep on going.

“Yura,” Otabek finally pulls him off of JJ’s cock. “It’s your turn now.” Otabek smiles at him. It’s so soft, and Its so genuine, that it makes Yuri melt. He kisses Otabek in every kind of way: softly, sloppily, demandingly, until he has to come up for air, and all there is is Otabek.

Otabek whispers to him something special and just for him in Russian, “ _He’s going to get us ready. Then, he’s going to fuck me. I’m going to fuck you. Is that okay?”_

Yuri squeezes his hand tightly, and nods yes.

Otabek repeats what he said to JJ albeit in French. Special, and just for him. Otabek grabs him round the middle, and they fall onto the bed together. Otabek kisses his face, the tip of his nose, the lobe of his ears. He gives him feather light kisses on his mouth that makes him want more.

Then, JJ is slipping between his legs. On instinct, Yuri hooks his legs over his shoulders.

He and Otabek don’t stop kissing when JJ licks a long stripe from his hole to his tailbone. Otabek laps up each and every moan.

JJ is good at this. Really, really good at this. His tongue licks at him, but never adds pressure over and over again until he’s wriggling and writhing across the bed, and both Otabek and JJ have to hold him still. Then, JJ’s pressing his tongue inside, and he’s fucking laughing like an idiot. A big stupid cock starved idiot.

“I love you,” Otabek tells him.

“I love you too,” Yuri says it with his sweat slicked forehead pressed to Otabek’s. His legs spread wide, and JJ in between.

Then, as soon as he’s used to the feeling of JJ’s mouth on his ass, he’s gone. JJ moves up Otabek’s body, and kisses him. He watches their tongues slip and slide between their mouths. It _should_ be disgusting. Except, Otabek says it to JJ too. He doesn’t know much French at all, but he knows enough to know, “je t'aime.” Then, it doesn’t seem so disgusting at all.

JJ disappears back between Otabek’s legs, eats him out like a champ with no sign of fatigue. Even when he’s eating Otabek out with every ounce of energy and concentration that he can muster, he’s still noisy as fuck. He makes obscene suckling noises against Otabek’s skin. He pulls away to make commentary too.

“Isn’t he pretty Yura?”

Yuri shoots him a look. He’d rather be _Princess_ or _Kitten._ _Yura_ is for Otabek.

“Hm.”

“We made him like this Yura,” JJ says, not getting the hint.

Yuri isn’t just content to kiss Otabek while he’s getting eaten out. He watches how JJ’s head dips between Otabek’s legs. He pinches his nipples. He plays with his cock, giving him a single hard pump up then down his length.

 That, in tandem with JJ eating him out, pulls the best fucking moan out of him. And after that, it’s like Otabek can’t stop. 

Yuri chases each and every little noise that he makes. He teases him. Grabs him by the head, and rubs the pre-come around on his tip until he’s tossing his head back against the pillow and mussing his hair. “Evil. Both of you,” Otabek decides.

“You did it,” JJ notes. “Got me and the Kitten together.”

 “Kinda a weird way to be selfish,” Yuri adds.  Although Yuri says it to JJ, he leans over Otabek, and lets his hair fall all around his face. Then, and only then does he kiss him. He dips his tongue in immediately, it’s deep, and t’s sloppy, and it’s so good.

“He doesn’t know the meaning of the word,” JJ says when he finally comes up for air.

“I’m ready to do it.” Otabek says. Except his strong and demanding voice is gone.

“Should we?” Yuri asks.

“He is the world champion,” JJ supplies.

Otabek stands on his knees with JJ behind him. JJ enters Otabek first, and Yuri gets to watch Otabek’s eyes screw shut with the burn that starts sharp and fades to a low smolder that comes from being entered. Then JJ hands Otabek the lube, and he pours it all over his own cock.

Yuri lays on his back, and holds his legs up high to his chest. Otabek has him on a precarious perch of pillows. All it takes is one wrong move and he slides to the left, and then the delicate configuration between them would be gone.

Never the less, Otabek pulls his hips forward, and presses into him nice and slow. When Otabek enters him, it’s as if the three of them really come together for the very first time. Each other’s names are spoken in a sharp mess of jumbled syllables, a hiss or a whisper in each other’s mouths.

JJ pistons his hips forward, which pushes Otabek forward. “Hey fucking watch it.” Cause he’s fine, and JJ’s sure as shit fine, but Beka?

“He wants it,” JJ responds.

“It’s fine, Yura,” Otabek responds.

Those are the last coherent words spoken between them. After that it’s little more than deep grunting noises, long agonized moans, and the sound of skin against skin. Yuri loves watching Otabek’s face through it all. His eyes roll to the back of his head. His eyelashes bat and reveal heavy love drunk eyes.

For Yuri, it feels increadible. He can’t even imagine how good it is for Otabek. Each movement is like he’s getting pounded into twice, first by JJ and then by Otabek. Each thrust sends aftershocks through his body, and it’s Otabek that coaxes him through each low rolling wave of their bodies.

Otabek kisses, him, and then takes Yuri’s cock into his hand. Then, he’s coming into his ass, and Yuri’s loving every twitch and every pulse.

For all the noise that JJ is making, he can only assume that JJ’s doing the same.

Of course, the momentary truce between himself and JJ ends as soon as they come. “Let your lover bring clean you up,” JJ boasts walking around naked. JJ brings him a wet washrag to clean up with.

So Yuri brings him a glass of ice water. “I had to put on pants to get ice Beka. That’s how much I love you.”

“Have some fruit,” JJ says extracting some snacks from somewhere. . JJ brings him a snack.

Then Otabek’s putting his foot down all over again, “get into bed with me right now, or you’re both sleeping alone.”

* * *

Since when does Otabek practice for exhibition skates? They’re usually spent pushing his rented bike to the very limits, and violating enough traffic laws to get deported immediately. Or, he’s helping Yuri choreograph an entirely new routine, just because they can. Today, Otabek takes to the ice early, long before either JJ or Yuri wanted to for their own exhibition skates.

Yuri and JJ stand on the side of the rink. Yuri has a latte in hand. His free arm braces against the rail. JJ brings nothing with him. Both free hands hold his weight against the rail.

The lights are still dimmed, as the staff haven’t fully filed in yet. The rink is left in that strange liminal place between competition and practice as the ice is untreated, but the television crews have already filed in to set up.

Otabek typically looks like nothing but an unholy combination of raw power and iron will out on the ice. His jumps are high, and his sequences are powerful. He doesn’t look like a man who has been a stranger to the dance studio for years.  He’s all the things that he’s tried to distance himself from: delicateness, fragility, Otabek is exposed and genuine.

JJ’s hand bumps up against Yuri’s on the rail. Yuri looks over to see that he’s bent over slightly and balanced on one leg to fuck with his lace. JJ puts his foot back down. Together, they look out over the ice at Otabek. JJ doesn’t move his hand. Yuri doesn’t pull his away either.

 


End file.
